


I Think That's Quite Enough

by Ghostinthehouse



Series: Demon and Angel Professors [158]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Professors, BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Disabled Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:08:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29404581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostinthehouse/pseuds/Ghostinthehouse
Summary: Crowley was in his office late, when a ruckus sounded outside.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Demon and Angel Professors [158]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1412962
Comments: 47
Kudos: 614





	I Think That's Quite Enough

Crowley was in his office late, picking away at routine admin and waiting for Aziraphale to finally wrap up his office hours and let him know, so that they could head home together, when a ruckus sounded outside. He shifted over to perch on the window sill beside his plants and looked down.

Some drunk students seemed to have to taken it on themselves to pretend to be Monty Python's Black Knight and were loudly challenging all comers to defeat them with plastic swords before they could pass. All things considered, the kid waving the sword and challenge wasn't too bad at fighting, though he wasn't a patch on Aziraphale, and there was quite a trapped crowd building up. Crowley rolled his eyes as he realised that he and Aziraphale were going to have to get past all of it to get to the Bentley. Somehow.

His phone chose that moment to ring with Aziraphale's theme.

Crowley lunged for it, cutting off the strains of "Good Old Fashioned Loverboy". "Angel! You ready yet?"

"Yes, quite," Aziraphale's voice came back, in the snipped tone that told Crowley without words that he needed an excuse to get away. "Could you confirm...?"

"If that's a student, tell them your dear husband Anthony is whisking you away for the evening."

"Thank you, dearest." He moved the phone away from his mouth, but Crowley could still hear, muffled, but audible, Aziraphale repeating, "So sorry, my husband needs my attention. Another time, perhaps." and a younger voice too muffled to make out the words.

Crowley grinned openly, and began gathering his belongings together, phone tucked against his shoulder in case his angel came back on the line.

He did, but only to say, "I'll see you down by the kerfuffle, dearheart."

He signed off before Crowley could do more than splutter affectionately, " _Kerfuffle_?!"

***

Outside, they joined each other in a shadow by the door and watched as the pseudo black knight won again.

Aziraphale pursed his lips. "Remind you of old times, dear?"

Crowley wrinkled his nose. "It's not damp enough for that. Oh well, can't stand around all night." He sauntered forward and scooped up the fake sword, twirling it idly to get a feel for the weight and balance.

The student looked daunted, but squared up. "Fight me, if you want to pass!"

His friends whispered nervously, all looking at Crowley, wondering if it was really the best idea to fight the most notoriously vicious professor on campus.

Crowley nodded once, flipped the sword with a flick of his wrist, hooked the crosspiece behind the kid's ankle and pulled. The kid hit the ground. Crowley stepped over him, tossed him back the spare sword, and headed for the Bentley.

"That wasn't fair! I wasn't ready!"

"Nobody said anything about a fair fight, kid," Crowley growled, and swung himself into the Bentley.

***

Behind him, Aziraphale scuttled forward, hoping to pass now that Crowley had done the defeating. Sadly, the poor drunk student got to his feet too soon and barred the way. "That doesn't count. I want a fair fight!"

Aziraphale huffed a put-upon sigh. "Oh, very well. Give me the sword then."

The other students relaxed. It was just kind Dr Fell playing along, perfectly harmless.

Someone passed him the second sword, and he hefted it, holding it as if he really would rather be doing anything else. (He really would, but that didn't mean he couldn't use it.)

He waited politely for the student to make the first move, parried, then disarmed him harmlessly in three swift strokes, tucked both blades under his arm and smiled with icy sweetness. "I think that's quite enough of this ballyhoo. I'll take these. Good _night_." And with that, he bustled across the last stretch of tarmac and slipped into the Bentley.

The moment he was in and safe, Crowley peeled out of the car park, taking them away from the fight and the gawking students. "Well," he said. "That was a thing."


End file.
